


Right Here

by galileos_telescope



Series: The Lyrium Elf [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Character Death, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:04:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3676719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galileos_telescope/pseuds/galileos_telescope





	Right Here

Varric had never imagined a journey could be this tense. There was a weight in the air, pressing into their shoulders, almost crushing them. He stayed near the back of their group, staring at the backs of Cassandra, Dorian, and the Inquisitor. _Avery_ , Varric reminded himself, _he asked me to stop calling him Inquisitor._

The Arbor Wilds wasn’t far now. They could hear the commotion, feel the energy of the red lyrium in the air. They could hear Leliana’s agents fighting, hear the wounded cries, not sure from whom they were coming. Cullen’s army was on their way, battling their way through the Red Templars, former friends, allies, brothers in arms. There was suffering in the air, but something was wrong, something worse than this.

They stopped before the ruins of an old building, beyond that was the fight that would change the fate of Thedas. Avery’s horse reared up, and the others backed away.

“What is happening?” Cassandra called out, not quite able to see what had stopped their journey.

Avery dismounted, and summoned a spirit blade. Varric slid off his stocky horse, and readied Bianca. He stood next to the Inquisitor, looking around. Surely, the Templars would be a bit more subtle, hiding along the path. But Varric looked down the path, and froze mid-step. It was impossible. This couldn’t be happening.

He knew the man that blocked their path. White hair fell over a head hung low, a great greatsword strapped to his back, bare feet against the soft soil and sharp twigs. It was like he hadn’t changed. But the way he carried himself, it was wrong.

“Broody…? What’re you doin’ here?” Varric took a couple steps forward, stopping when Fenris backed away.

Varric saw it then, his heart froze. _No. This can't happen. Not broody. He doesn’t deserve this. Why him? Maker, why him? What did he do to get this? Why?_

The lyrium markings glowed an angry shade of red. Fenris looked up from the beaten path, and there was his smirk, the one they saw during Wicked Grace, when he had a bit too much wine to drink, getting a bit more talkative as the night went on. That smirk from when they first met, and Hawke decided to try to flirt with him, only for Fenris to try and hide it with a cough.

That smirk had turned cruel.

“Varric, you… know him? Is he the one from Kirkwall?”

Varric nodded, his eyes never leaving Fenris’. He could see a faint red glow of something evil behind the eyes that once showed so much emotion when he thought no one was looking.

“Broody. Fenris. What happened?”

Silence. Avery tensed beside him, and he heard Cassandra’s sword slide from its sheath.

Fenris’ eyes flicked to Cassandra, and suddenly everything was a blur. He could see the elf phasing in and out of reality, dodging attacks from all angles. Cassandra swung her sword once, twice, three times, and never landed a blow. Dorian threw spell after spell, cursing in Tevene, eventually calling out to Varric.

“I hope you know, Varric, fighting generally includes moving!”

Varric couldn’t move. Bianca was still in his hands, ready to fire a shot. Fenris was duelling with Avery, each landing blow after blow. The Anchor was glowing, reacting to the chaos around them. He took a step back, and swung his sword, knocking the Inquisitor unconcious. Dorian rushed to his side, knocking Fenris back with a blast of magic. He stood from the dirt, and turned to Varric.

Varric’s eyes darted between Fenris, and Cassandra. Cassandra was dazed, struggling to open a health poultice. It was clear that he was the one to end this fight.

“I don’t want to do this, Broody.”

_It’s my fault. I dragged him into this when I found the idol._

He ducked, as a sword swung at his head.

_My fault the first place he saw as home was destroyed._

He fired a bolt, and it sailed through the air, burying in the wall behind them. Fenris glared at his former friend.

“You do know you’re serving a Tevinter magister, right, Fenris? You really don’t want to do this.”

Fenris swung his sword again. Varric struggled to ready another bolt. His hands were shaking uncontrollably. Finally, the bolt slid into place, he aimed, shut his eyes, and fired.

He heard the thud of a bolt hitting its mark, and then the thud of a body hitting the ground. Varric opened his eyes, and saw the bolt protruding from Fenris’ heart. He stared down at his old friend, as the life slowly left his eyes.

Fenris reached up, slowly, and struggled, getting a loose grip on the sleeve of Varric’s coat.

“I’m sorry, Fenris. I’m so sorry. This is my fault. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“No…” Came a whisper from the dying elf in front of him. And with that, his hand fell, the life finally leaving him.

Varric couldn’t bring himself to move. He hunched over the lifeless body of the former slave, and willed himself not to cry. He never noticed Avery stand again, Cassandra finish off another health potion, and Dorian come up behind him. They surrounded the two of them, almost as if they were shielding him from the rest of the world, all the chaos and hatred and _misery_.

No one approached him for what felt like an eternity. Dorian eventually spoke up.

“Varric, We need to get moving. The longer we wait here, the less chance we have at the element of surprise.”

Varric sighed. He couldn’t leave Fenris there.

“Avery,” Varric mumbled, “is there a way to get his body back to Kirkwall? He needs a proper funeral. He deserves that much. I owe him that much.” _After I killed him. After I ruined his life. After I took everything away from him, and for what? Gold?_

“Varric.”

_Selfish._

“I’ll do what I can. Cullen, Leliana, and the others are not far behind. Ride back, and lead him here. Leliana can arrange something.” Avery said, bending to meet Varric at eye level. When he looked down at Fenris, he saw the empty green eyes, and he reached over, his tan hand ghosting over Fenris’ face, shutting his eyes.

“Stay with them, Varric. They can send Cole ahead to join us. I don’t want you up there when you’re distracted.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Avery grabbed his shoulder. “No. You won’t. I can already tell. I don’t want you to get killed because I told you to come along.”

Varric looked away, but stood, and began to walk back towards his horse. Avery called out to him. “Are you going to be alright?”

He nodded. “I will be. I always am.”

The ride was a long one, Varric being left alone with his thoughts. My fault. _My fault the lyrium idol was found. My fault Corypheus is still alive. My fault Kirkwall was torn in two. My fault Hawke was left behind in the Fade. My fault Broody… Fenris, is dead._

_____________________________________

The funeral was quiet. It made sense. Fenris, even while he was in Kirkwall, had lived in hiding. It was only attended by Hawke’s companions. It was held just outside the city, to avoid the misery of the cold stone and chains.

Isabela was holding Merrill, who, despite her best efforts, cried throughout the ceremony. Aveline and Donnic stood side by side, her face as stoic as possible, her fingers laced with her husband’s. Sebastian stood by the front, leading the ceremony, trying to hold back what he felt, being the perfect example of the prince he was. Anders, to the surprise of Varric, made an appearance for the first time in years, standing near the back, trying to avoid notice.

There was no mention of the fight that killed their friend. Their family. Varric was grateful for that. Sebastian had said Fenris had died in battle, that it was something he probably would have wanted.

_Sounds like Broody,_ Varric thought, _he’d rather that than dying in bed. Or anyone to know what really happened_. Leliana had made sure the true cause of Fenris’ death never made it outside the Inquisitor’s inner circle.

When everything was said and done, everyone having once again having gone their separate ways, and Fenris’ ashes were carried off to be laid to rest, did Varric approach the gates to the city he had always known as home. It would always be missing something now that the elf was gone.

Varric went straight to The Hanged Man, and sat down in his old room. Only then did he pull out a piece of fresh parchment, to start his next story.

The story of the Tevinter slave who escaped to make a life for himself in the city of Kirkwall.

_One last goodbye._


End file.
